


A Gifted Mistake

by ElenCelebrindal



Series: Quenta Quenelya [3]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Annatar is only mentioned, Celebrimbor Has Issues, Celebrimbor's Life is a Tragedy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, M/M, Nerdanel is a Good Mother, Not Beta Read, but he is very important
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:47:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29299893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElenCelebrindal/pseuds/ElenCelebrindal
Summary: A re-embodied Celebrimbor thinks about the worst mistake he committed in life: falling in love with Sauron.
Relationships: Annatar/Celebrimbor | Telperinquar
Series: Quenta Quenelya [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2152818
Kudos: 15





	A Gifted Mistake

**Author's Note:**

> I use the name Celebrimbor in the general text, but the dialogues have him called Telperinquar. I see him freely using both of his names, as I headcanon Annatar using his Quenya name when not in public, hence the reason why both of them are in this story. 
> 
> The story is unfortunately not beta read, so forgive me for mistakes/typing errors. English is not my native language, so please have mercy.  
> I use these «» as quotation marks for dialogue because, as I’m used to write in Italian, I’m not really comfortable with the “standard” quotation marks.

Many mistakes were committed in life by his family. The Kinslayings were maybe the most atrocious of them, not at all unexplained yet surely almost unjustified, but those had a reason. Fëanáro himself had a reason to slain during the first, in his madness for the death of his father in the Undying Lands and for the theft of those Silmarils he held dear. The Oath bound his sons more than him, but his fiery spirits hadn’t been free from its malice.  
Celebrimbor learned to believe how Fëanáro was not completely in the wrong, during his long years far from his family. He learned to accept that the Valar had made a mistake, in pursuing the Silmarils first rather than Melkor, and that they weren’t perfect. He learned to understand his grandfather was right, to some extent, when he talked about how the Valar were keeping them prisoners, maybe not physically, but emotionally with no doubts.

Tyelkormo, just like his dearest brother Atarinkë, was among those of the family that went too far in their Oath-induced anger and madness. Maybe Tyelkormo more than his brother, as he had to leave behind not only his life, but part of his heart.  
The cruel actions of the two, though not fully excusable by using the Oath as a cover, were something Celebrimbor stopped loathing once he was reborn. During his days in Eregion, and even before, when he fled his own kin, he was convinced a stern hatred boiled in his blood towards his father. Not so much that he openly hated, for it was his family and still his mind was restless upon hearing others talk ill of it, but had a deep disappointment that soon turned to grief and loss.  
As he started seeing more of the world, and learning more of the Oath and of the power belonging to the flaming Maia of his nightmares, Celebrimbor understood what sort of terror and fury overcame his once-cheerful family.

His re-embodiment wasn’t something he expected.

When the voice of his grandmother called for him, clear and strong as he remembered it from better times, Celebrimbor thought of illusions, of those same illusions he had been prey of when under the hand of his captor.  
What made him believe her voice was real, and not a trick of the enemy, was not the relieved face of Nerdanel in front of him, nor the warmth of her hands clasped around his own. It was the pain, or the absence of it, the only reason why he snapped out of his daze and slowly came to his senses, with a new body to breathe in.  
As soon as he realized, and watched as Nerdanel wept tears of joy for her grandson, Celebrimbor wept tears of his own; though, his were tears of sorrow, and betrayal, and unending pain that the Halls couldn’t rend from his fëa.  
He was on his knees before he realized, and Nerdanel was scared, but the great smith of the Noldor couldn’t bring himself to stand up.  
For he didn’t deserve that new life.

He deserved to stay dead, roaming the Halls ‘til the end of the Days, remembering and never forgetting how the mithril hammer hit and hit again, spilling blood with no mercy, until all became dark.  
He deserved to never let go of the memory of blonde hair turning fire red, of sharp grey eyes turning harsh gold and flaming, as he kneeled with his wrists bound in chains.

Nerdanel hugged him, that much he recalled, but how he left the Halls of Mandos… that escaped his memory.

She tried to talk to him, to make him believe nothing he did was wrong, that he was released before the rest of his family for a great reason, but Celebrimbor couldn’t listen to her. His grandmother’s words were void to his ears, bearing no more than sound with no meaning to it, because he knew he didn’t deserve it.  
The Valar had made a mistake.  
Or else, why would they not release his father, his family, who committed unspeakable crimes with a terrible Oath forcing them to leave their senses behind, but they let him go, he who fell in love with the Enemy?

He had no obligation, no higher force guiding him, no Oath spilling blood.  
And yet, he fell for the deceiving form of a Maia that was not fair anymore, but corrupted so deeply he had a black soul, seduced in the arms of who claimed himself to be King of Arda.  
A beautiful fana, and a velvety voice. Skills in his fingers, and brightness in his mind.  
That had been enough for Celebrimbor to fall.

He fell, when Maitimo endured that same Maia’s touch and voice for years of unending torture.  
He fell, when Makalaurë walked alone and destroyed on the shore of his now gone land.  
He fell, when Tyelkormo paid with his life the price of the Oath, drowned in blood.  
He fell, when Carnistir fought with all his might to forge friendship and alliance, despite his foul mood.  
He fell, when Atarinkë wept for his son and faced death with a grin on his face.  
He fell, when one Ambarussa retained his innocence and the other raised a sword he wanted to drop.

They died fighting against the fearsome lieutenant. He died falling in love with him.

Celebrimbor sighed, tired of revisiting the same thoughts over and over again, and closed his eyes, feeling fatigued but refusing to go back inside; the garden of Nerdanel’s house was welcoming and open, and the house was too crowded for him, even if there were but two people living in it.  
He was not fond of the words Nerdanel and Mathan gifted him, as if trying to say he did nothing wrong. They were lying, though not willingly, and he hated liars.  
He’d been lied to for too many moons.

The smith almost wished for his father to be reborn alongside him, though he knew it was not possible, not so early, not until their souls had healed. He knew Nerdanel wasn’t going to let the Valar take her sons away.  
The Void couldn’t claim them, after all.  
The Oath wasn’t left unfulfilled.

Sure, the Silmarils were not in the hands of the fëanorians, but they were not stolen anymore. When Maitimo cast himself into fire, and Makalaurë threw away his gem, the Oath only needed one more. And that one more, as Makalaurë too late had decided, could not be returned, and was gifted to him by his own will.  
A way to go around the Oath, to forcibly break it, for nothing told that a son of Fëanor could not give possession of the gem away.  
Makalaurë had needed long years to figure that out, while playing his Noldolantë over and over again, until the Sea-Maiar themselves started weeping. His voice was lost to the waves, but his mind never rested, and one day he found their only salvation.

_This swear we all:_

_death we will deal him ere Day's ending,_

_woe unto world's end!_

Death and woe.  
What Makalaurë did was the unthinkable.  
He found a way around the Oath, declaring for the bright Maiar and Valar to hear that he gave Eärendil death, as he gave him the death of his people, and he gave Eärendil woe, as he gave him the woe of ever-lasting loneliness.  
And then, singing his power, he cried for the sky to take the jewel and keep it, for the Oath for broken and their doom lifted.

Celebrimbor, instead, submitted to the seduction of his very own Dark Lord, and fought only when the obvious struck his eyes. Only when he found himself shackled and powerless, with the One whispering in foul Speech, only after giving his Enemy the craft of the Rings of Power.  
His last stand, his last effort, was to protect the Three Rings no matter the cost. To protect his allies no matter the cost. It was the least he could do, submit to Sauron’s torture, to his voice as sweet as honey and to his hands as hard as steel, in order to redeem himself, to pay for his fatal mistake.

The Lord of Gifts, as he called himself, had surely brought a gift to his prey: the gift of love sickness, for even in agony Celebrimbor still loved the fair Maia that charmed him, unable to make his heart wither and his heartbreak subside.

«I do not deserve to be here», he found himself whispering, clenching his fist in terrible anger, as bitter tears pricked his eyes and fell on his cheeks.  
He was angry, at who exactly he did not know, but he couldn’t bring himself to care all that much. He was angry, and that was enough. He didn’t deserve kindness, nor love, for love only brought despair and death to whoever he allied himself with.  
The far voice of Mandos had told him how he died, how Sauron took his lifeless body and used it as a banner to hold high in war, shot with numerous arrows and bearing the Eye carved on his chest, and Celebrimbor had felt nothing.  
He was expected to feel outraged, desecrated maybe, but already he knew he deserved it. What he was supposed to experience fell to indifference.

He would have wounded himself, nails digging half-moons into his palms, hadn’t a gentle pair of hands lay themselves on his own, slowly convincing him to relax the iron fist to his side.  
Celebrimbor didn’t need to turn to know it was Nerdanel, once again, with a worried look on her face.

«You should not be in my company», he bluntly told her, despite feeling the guilt at such gratuitous harshness. «I am not one to be loved».

Rather than listening to him, Nerdanel shook her head and smiled, in spite of the sadness threatening to darken her features: «What are you saying? You _are_ to be loved», she said, calling his attention on her words. «You are free, Telperinquar, free to breathe and love and be loved. Why are you fleeing?».  
She wanted to help him, to understand why he grandson was so wary of other people’s company, why he refused to accept he was alive again.

It pained her, to see him so lonely and unhappy, so seemingly fed-up with the world he was just re-embodied into. Celebrimbor refused to talk, barely ate, and only quenched his thirst when his own body forced him to. Ever awake, never sleeping, never rested.  
He was always flying from anyone who tried to approach him, always averting his gaze, with resentment in his eyes and melancholy in his voice.  
Nerdanel already lost them all once, unable to leave, to do what she had been too foolish to understand. She did _not_ want to see her grandson lost again. He needed to be there, when his father would be re-embodied, when the rest of their family would be finally back.

He pulled his hand away, hardly stopping it from shaking, and let out a laugh that seemed more like a sob: « _Loved_? My love only brought wretched despair», the elf angrily spoke, forcing the words through his teeth, then baring them in a smile. «I am free, that much is true, but my freedom is not to be applauded, for I did the unbelievable and deserve more than the punishment that was given to others».  
His voice was darkened by disdain, though his lips still smiled, a grin that was feral and vicious, under eyes that still wept.  
Oh, what a display he was putting on, crying like a victim though he was criminal.

«What are you… Tyelpe, what are you saying?!», Nerdanel exclaimed, eyes open wide as she listened to such gloomy words.  
Punishment worse than that given to others? It wasn’t hard to understand he was implying he deserved to suffer the same sorry fate of her sons and husband, though they themselves regained their right to bright freedom, but Nerdanel couldn’t grasp the reason of it.  
Hadn’t her grandson been a victim of the Enemy as well? Hadn’t him been deceived, like all others?  
That much she told him, and almost recoiled when the answer came with eyes blazing like fire.

«Do not tell me of deception!», Celebrimbor all but yelled, finally losing control, boiling with rage though Nerdanel didn’t deserve it. «A victim, aye, I would have been, hadn’t I fell in love with the beast! Do not dare to be kind, for I deserve nothing but cruel retribution», he stated, only then realizing how loud his voice had become.  
«Even as I kneeled at his feet, bleeding and suffering, I still longed for the love I’d been robbed of», Celebrimbor went on, half-laughing half-crying, as he was taken by some sort of madness. «The Enemy stared at me with monster-like eyes, yet my love still burned, rending by fëa just as his devices slashed my hröa».

He didn’t love Sauron, that much he knew, but Annatar was never someone he learned how to hate. Even as he shifted before his very eyes, morphing from fair and gentle to scorching and dark, Celebrimbor couldn’t stop his worship for him.  
He had been lied to, yet he lied to himself, and cried desperate tears when Sauron kissed him and he felt Annatar, when his voice made his ears bled, but he still craved to hear it.

Shameful, wrong, dreadful, Celebrimbor had many words to describe himself and his horrendous behavior.

«You deserved your sons, not me», he shook his head, now overcome with terrible sorrow. «You deserved someone able to love without marring the world».  
He was outright crying now, sobbing even.  
Outweighed, Celebrimbor fell to his knees, and would have crumpled like a paper doll hadn’t Nerdanel sprung into action and to his help. She held him, like his father would when he was but a child, and Celebrimbor could do nothing but cry.  
He grabbed the front of her shirt, hands so tight his knuckles went white, and wept even harder when he felt Nerdanel’s arms encircling him.

Nerdanel didn’t know how long they stayed like that, down in the dirt, but she was willing to wait. The trembling ellon in her arms wasn’t going to be left alone once again.  
He needed love, family love, and she was there to give it to him. His grip didn’t loosen, and Nerdanel cared little of his tears wetting her clothes; Celebrimbor needed to cry, to let out all his emotions, and he needed someone strong enough to hold him.  
Slowly, she started stroking his back, murmuring soothing words she remembered from her mother days, and waited patiently for her grandson’s tears to dry and his breathing to become stable, desperation finally subsiding and giving place to a stillness.

Then, when she deemed it safe to speak aloud, reassured him: «Love is not to be toyed with», she said, still drawing comforting circles on Celebrimbor’s back. «As such, love is not an emotion that simply ceases to exist. You cannot bridle your heart, only your mind».  
She wanted him to understand that he wasn’t blamed for his feelings. That he needn’t to think he was to stay dead, or prey to castigation.  
Celebrimbor loved because he had someone to love. That his choice had been so frightful wasn’t his fault.

«Sauron deceived us all. You could not know. Please, do _not_ hold yourself responsible for where your heart guided you to», she emphasized, taking his face in her hands, wiping away his last tears. «You loved the fairness behind the darkness, not the darkness itself. I beg you, Tyelpe, stop blaming yourself».  
Losing him, so soon after having him back, was out of the picture.  
Nerdanel reiterated his statement, again and again, until she was sure Celebrimbor accepted it. This wasn’t something that could have waited, nor something to explain to him over the course of more days.  
He had to understand now, for fear that all would be lost.

Only when the night reached the deepest darkness Nerdanel felt a nod under her chin, where her grandson had took shelter like he did as a child. Soon after, Celebrimbor’s body relaxed, and Nerdanel lowered her eyes to find him asleep.  
Smiling, though still not fully happy, she took her grandson in her arms and carefully carried him inside, towards his bedroom. The house was silent, Mathan probably asleep or down in the workshop, and Celebrimbor did not wake up.  
Even when Nerdanel laid Celebrimbor on his bed and freed him from his outer robe, his exhaustion was so great he kept his eyes closed.

Caring, like only a mother would be, Nerdanel brought the covers up to his chin and slowly caressed his cheek, his frown decreasing as affection was given to him. That only crowded the elleth’s mind with more questions, but she put them aside.  
It wasn’t her place to ask about such delicate topics, unless he himself wanted her to.  
So, what she did instead was sitting down beside him, on a chair she stole from the near desk, and looked over him with protective eyes.

Until their family returned to them, she silently promised, they would never be lonely or angry again.

**Author's Note:**

> Nerdanel lives in her old house with her father because she cannot bring herself to live in the house she shared with Fëanor, at least until he and her sons come back. 
> 
> The headcanon I have for Fëanor and his sons is quite big, and I only tried my hand on it in this story, so sorry if the part with Maglor seems a bit confusing. Moreover, the mention of Celegorm leaving his heart behind is a not-so-subtle hint at his relationship with Oromë. I intend to elaborate all of this in a separate work. 
> 
> Celebrimbor came back to life some time during the Third Age, though it’s not specified here and it doesn’t need to be. The rest of the fëanorians will come back during the Fourth, so Nerdanel and Celebrimbor have quite the wait to endure.


End file.
